


after great pain, a formal feeling comes

by jeannamarin



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Death, F/M, Female Spock, Gen, Genocide, M/M, Power Imbalance, Slurs, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeannamarin/pseuds/jeannamarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>diverged timelines, broken links of a chain, and self determination</p><p>a fic about a spock from one timeline</p><p>she is unyielding</p>
            </blockquote>





	after great pain, a formal feeling comes

**Author's Note:**

> not enough fic about lady spock, i fixed that a little.
> 
> title from an emily dickinson poem of the same title

She stands firm. “No. You do not understand. Because you cannot know what this is like, with all due respect Captain. This level of loss, this magnitude of suffering is unknowable to you. I know what you think, because Nero caused the deaths of both of our parents that it gives us a reason to bond, but you are wrong. Nero killed your father, a man you never knew and thusly were never given the chance to love. Nero committed genocide against my people, and my mother, who I have loved for over 20 years, died in front of my eyes when I had the chance to save her. The pain of this, of living like this, as a relic of history, is something I do not want you to understand because I would not wish this on anyone. Goodnight, Captain Kirk.” She slams the door to her quarters in his face, then.  
Spock knows battle. She knows by now that just because someone nearly died beside you in a firefight it does not mean they respect you, no matter how much they like you. Closing her eyes and clenching her jaw, Spock allows one tear to flow free. She mourns her mother, her culture and her home, and then she lies down on the bed and sleeps.

—

Leonard McCoy stands beside his captain outside the FO’s locked door, with a stricken expression and a white knuckled grip on a PADD. He regrets every disguised slur sent her way, referring to her Vulcan ancestry and her purported inability to feel, calling her a pointy-eared bitch when she was within earshot and without. He knows that he deserves nothing from her, that she owes nothing to him. He wishes that things could be different because he has this feeling, this inane gut feeling that the three of them were supposed to be great, moored to each other through any storm, unfaltering. Instead, there are three shipwrecks floating through space, fragmented, not really meant to fit together again.

—

James T. Kirk is like an emperor, in that he will defeat and conquer and then graciously welcome into his arms the same metropolis of a human being all in one fell swoop. He does not understand that this is not love, that it is dominion, and just because another Spock showed him something does not mean the universe will ripple to accommodate what once had been. His determination to be right and just is shining like gold but his hands are made of lead and they can poison as much as he wants to help. His open palms expect, expect, expect and it is not self aggrandizing greed, he believes his way is the way and that to follow him means adventure, glory, happiness. He does not understand. And that is the end of it.

—

She meets him after the starships dock, after the shuttles return to Starfleet and most of the cadets have departed. He stands apart, in the steam filled cargo bay in a long, shining coat with eyes like polished onyx set into weathered sandstone. She faces him with blood still coagulated down the side of her face. He smiles like they know each other and she feels cold fury. Cold fury is useful, because it can be controlled, directed. “Ambassador Spock.” She intones, ever the image of respectful. He continues with that syrupy smile and her lip resists the urge to curl. “I have only one thing to say to you, Ambassador. You may be Spock, and I may also be Spock, but we are not one and the same person. You gave Captain Kirk the impression that we were, and that all would be well should he choose to befriend me. You were incorrect, Ambassador. We share a remarkable amount of DNA but you and I are different. Your Jim Kirk is dead. He is gone. I cannot allow you to attempt to live out what you never had through me. This is self destructive, and the destruction of the self is illogical. And we are nothing if not logical, are we not, Ambassador.” His eyes have lost their luster, and his face is shadowed with threat and portent when he speaks.

“I merely assumed – “

“You assume too much, sir. I apologize for my abruptness. I will not contact you again. Live long, and prosper, Ambassador Spock.”

She gives the salute and turns, slowly, respectfully. She does not wait to see if he returns the gesture or not. She has long grown used to never hearing it back.


End file.
